


30 Days of Drabbles

by thedarknesswithin (babylxxrry)



Category: Pentatonix, Superfruit
Genre: Gen, M/M, Multi, Other, SePTXCC17, see each chapter note for a full set of tags and warnings!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 06:38:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 14,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11938431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babylxxrry/pseuds/thedarknesswithin
Summary: 30-day prompted creative challenge!





	1. Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> hi! so essentially how i'm doing this in terms of formatting per chapter:
> 
> Prompt: _____  
> Warnings/TWs: _____  
> Tags: _____ (will all be added to general tag category when i have time, but make sure to check for specifics!!)
> 
> so as an example, the first chapter is:
> 
> Prompt: Coffee  
> Warnings/TWs: N/A  
> Tags: Fluff, Domestic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Coffee  
> Warnings/TWs: none!  
> Tags: Fluff, Domestic

Mitch’s phone dings and he looks over from his laptop screen. The notification says that his Postmates is at the door, and he sighs. That means he actually has to put on pants. He finds a pair of shorts on the floor—Scott’s, because he hasn’t worn shorts in forever—and pulls them on. He gets his coffee and tips the girl, setting the tray on the counter for when Scott gets back from his run.

Scott texts him a string of running, sweat, and heart emojis when he’s on his way back, and Mitch smiles at his phone screen before he sends back a grimace and a heart.

Mitch is pantsless and tidying up his room when he hears the front door open.

“Mitchy, I’m home!” Scott calls, a beat before there’s a burst of laughter.

“What?” Mitch comes out of his room and into the hall to see Scott laughing so hard he’s shaking, and _oh_. That’s why.

Scott’s holding his phone and keys in one hand, but in his other, he’s got a tray. Of Starbucks. Of exactly the same thing Mitch ordered. Christ.

“Did we really surprise each other with coffee?” Is the first thing out of Mitch’s mouth when he gets over the shock of it and an uncontrollable urge to laugh spreads through his body.

Scott nods wordlessly, still laughing too hard to talk, and Mitch is only mildly concerned about his ability to breathe as he takes the tray from Scott, setting it on the counter so he doesn’t drop it and spill it.

“Oh. My God.” Scott gasps as he tries to catch his breath, giggles still threatening to consume him and pull him down to the floor. “Oh my god, Mitchy, we’re _actually_ married, I can’t believe us.”

Mitch can’t help his smile at that, eyes involuntarily travelling to where a simple twisted ring sits on his left hand and then its mate on the chain around Scott’s neck.

Soon.

 

-fin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about the end i got kinda carried away


	2. Knife

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Knife  
> Warnings/TWs: none major  
> Tags: Alternate Universe - Circus, Knife-Throwing, Fluff, kinda

The knife flies through the air towards Mitch, and he stares at it, unblinking until it smacks into the wood just to the right of his ear.

“Nice throw,” he calls to the person who threw it in the first place. “Could’ve gone a little higher if you want to be sure it doesn’t flip off into my shoulder.”

Scott emerges from the shadow outside the spotlight as Mitch slides the throwing knife from the wood and hands it to him. “Okay. I’ve got like two more rounds of six apiece before we’re set for tonight, feel free to try different poses.”

Mitch returns to the massive wheel of wood and tries a new shape besides the usual starfish, keeping in mind that Scott gets less accurate the farther left he has to throw.

They’ve been a partnered act since they met the first day—Scott a new thrower and Mitch a gymnast ready for something besides heights. They’d hit it off immediately, and initially, Mitch had been terrified of the idea of knives flying around his head, his limbs. Scott’d reassured him, though, by showing him how he trained with a taped outline of a person against the wood. Eventually, Mitch had reluctantly fit himself inside the outline during one of Scott’s practice sessions. He’d flinched every time a knife hit with a solid _thwack,_ several feet from any part of him.

Now, though, he trusts Scott. He knows Scott’s much improved since those first few weeks and also that Scott’s beyond careful with every throw. Scott trusts him, too, he knows. Scott trusts him not to flinch, not to put himself into harm’s way (at least, any more than is necessary in this line of work).

There’s a specific type of thrill that comes with having knives thrown at you, and Mitch has come to love it. There’s nothing quite like watching the love of your life pitching sharp objects at your body, only it’s not quite at your body, it’s an inch from your body, sometimes less if something goes wrong. Mitch has his fair share of scars and nicks from various accidents, but he’s never had anything serious enough for more than three stitches. Scott’s always careful, and Mitch trusts him, and vis versa.

Scott lines up a throw, takes a breath.

Mitch exhales with him as the knife comes hurtling through the air and hits the wood just above Mitch’s head.

They work together. They live together. They eat together. They sleep together.

It’s the only way they can trust each other enough to be safe in their line of work.

They breathe together.

 

-fin.


	3. Underwear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Underwear  
> Warnings/TWs: nope  
> Tags: Fluff, Domestic, Innuendos

Mitch skids on his socks to their silverware drawer, catching himself against the counter. He pulls the drawer out, picking their nice forks and spoons and knives with a grimace, because as much as he’d rather use the ones that fit comfortably in his hand, these are newer and fancier.

“How many serving spoons?” Mitch calls and he’s not even sure if Scott can hear him over the Beyoncé they have blasting from the living room.

Scott appears from the laundry room, arms full of the fabric Mitch assumes are the placemats. “Um. Two spoons, two forks, and one of the salad tongs? Cause we have the mashed potatoes and the corn and green beans and beets and steak and that meatless roast thing and obviously salad.”

“Okay, I just wasn’t sure if we’d share a spoon across corn and beans and beets.”

Scott shrugs, dumping his armful of placemats on one of the dining room chairs.  “Less washing up to do, and your parents don’t mind, right?”

“Don’t think so. We did it all the time when I was little.” Mitch says absentmindedly as he digs their serving utensils out from the bottom of their organizers.

It’s the work of two minutes to finish setting the table, and Mitch steps back to admire their handiwork. The table looks good, the food’s sitting ready in the kitchen, and his parents texted that they were ten minutes out.

Familiar arms loop over Mitch’s shoulders, and he leans back into Scott’s hug, tilting his head to press a kiss to Scott’s bicep. Scott hums in content satisfaction, dropping the lightest of kisses onto Mitch’s ear. It’s their wordless way of reminding each other that they love each other.

Their little moment of sweetness is broken by Mitch’s phone buzzing. Mitch wriggles in Scott’s hold when Scott refuses to let him go.

“Mitchyyyyyy, let me cuddle youuuuu,” Scott whines.

“Later, baby, my parents just texted,” Mitch says, slapping futilely (and gently) at Scott’s arm. When that doesn’t work, he reaches up to ruffle Scott’s hair, which earns him a high-pitched yelp, his freedom, and a retaliatory hair-fluff from Scott.

Mitch’s phone declares that his parents have arrived, so he skips towards the front door.

“Wait, Mitchy, put pants on,” Scott calls after him, and Mitch stops in his tracks. He’s still in just a t-shirt and his briefs, and he considers for a moment before he shrugs. “Nothing they haven’t seen before, right?”

Mitch opens the door. There’s a momentary silence as Mike apparently takes in his getup and Scott behind him, and Mitch is about to say something when Mike starts laughing.

“Did we interrupt something, boys? Want a moment?”

Mitch glances at Scott, confused, when he registers what it must look like. Both their hair is mussed, completely out of character for both of them, he’s in just underwear, and _fuck, they were trying the beets earlier_ so their lips are stained red.

“It’s not what it looks like,” Mitch says automatically, and Mike just laughs harder. Nel’s watching him in fond amusement.

Mitch glances back to see Scott turning red as he, too, realizes what’s happening.

Well.

Dinner should be interesting.

 

 

-fin.

 

 


	4. Moment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Moment  
> Warnings/TWs: nope!  
> Tags: Fluff

They’re livestreaming and lazing around in their room in New York, and they’re kind of at a lull, there’s nothing big happening and they’re sprawled on the bed, sides pressed together. Mitch is singing along softly to whatever they have playing, and Scott can’t help the way he looks over out of habit but then it’s like he gets stuck looking at Mitch.

His gaze focuses on the way Mitch’s lips are moving, forming words he hears but doesn’t listen to, his gaze flicks up to Mitch’s eyes, so big and pretty and soft and a little sleepy, his gaze meets Mitch’s as Mitch falls silent next to him, and there’s a moment where Scott actually physically gets lost in Mitch’s eyes like the cliché he really is. It’s just a fraction of a second, but it feels like eternity and Scott has to consciously stop himself from leaning forward to drop a kiss onto Mitch’s lips, because they’re still on a livestream and that’s not something they’re willing to go public with, not yet.

The moment ends with Mitch’s “what?” and a little giggle, and Scott looks back at the phone they’re streaming off of, because oh shit, that was really obvious, wasn’t it?

It feels like an eternity of watching his actions later that the livestream’s finally done.

“Okay. No more livestreams until we can figure out how to stop looking in love on camera,” Mitch mumbles into Scott’s shoulder from where he’s ended up sprawled mostly on top of Scott.

“We are though,” Scott says, hand coming up to rub absent-minded circles into Mitch’s back. “We’re in love, right?”

Mitch nods, cheek pressed against Scott’s chest. “Course. You’re my boyfriend, how could I not?”

“I love you to the moon and back, my princess,” Scott whispers, leaving a whisper-light kiss on the top of Mitch’s head.

“I love you, too, sunshine.”

 

-fin.


	5. Fresh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Fresh  
> Warnings/TWs: none  
> Tags: Fluff, Crack

“Scott. Scott. Scott. Scott. Scott.”

Scott pulls the covers over his head.  He mumbles out something that Mitch hopefully hears as “fuck off”.

“Scott, no, get up,” Mitch tugs at the blanket, and Scott lets him peel them back, making a face in Mitch’s general direction.

“Why.”

“Scott… I broke the juice machine,” Mitch says, and Scott furrows his brows.

“What?”

“I broke. The juice machine.”

Scott’s too tired for this. “How the fuck.”

There’s a shuffling and then Mitch is sitting heavily at the foot of Scott’s bed. Scott squints at him through bleary eyes.

“I wanted juice.”

“How the fuck,” Scott says again, because that’s all that’s going through his sleep-addled mind at the moment.

“I don’t know,” Mitch whines, “Help me fix it, I want juice.”

“Drink the stuff in the fridge,” Scott sighs, resigning himself to the fact that he’s not going to get any more sleep this morning.

“No, I want fresh juice.”

“High maintenance.”

“Queen wants what queen wants, Scotty. Help me fix the juice machine.”

Scott sighs.

 

-fin.


	6. Soothing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Soothing  
> Warnings/TWs: Vomiting/Vomit/Emetophobia TW  
> Tags: Sickfic, Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Fluff

The first thing Mitch notices when he wakes up is how nauseous he is. He throws the covers off and stumbles to the bathroom, ending up heaving into the toilet. He hasn’t eaten anything yet, so really, it’s all stomach acid that’s coming up and burning his throat and making tears spring unbidden to his eyes.

He doesn’t know _why_ he’s throwing up, because unless he’s coming down with something, he hasn’t gotten drunk for like two weeks, and he hasn’t eaten anything out of the ordinary.

His anxiety seems convinced he’s going to die, though, because apparently it thinks it’s funny to make him cry while his stomach is still rolling, and that’s how Scott finds him, clutching the toilet bowl and crying because the acid in his throat hurts and _fuck_ , it’s going to eat through his neck and kill him, _fuck._

Mitch is halfway to complete hysteria when a familiar presence appears at his side.

“Mitchy, it’s me, can I touch you?” Scott’s soft voice filters through the mess that is Mitch’s mind at the moment, and Mitch nods with a choked-off sob.

A hand rests gently on his back, thumb stroking circles that Mitch tries to focus his attention on, and not the burning in his throat.

It’s a few minutes later that Mitch collects himself long enough to sit back a little so he’s not clutching the rim of the bowl. He looks at Scott, who’s been sitting quietly next to him the whole time. Scott offers him a little smile, and Mitch tries to pull his mouth into some form of grimace. Scott reaches up and flushes the toilet. Mitch looks back to the water, staring as it swirls down the drain.

“You okay, Mitch?”

Mitch shrugs. Honestly, at this point, he’s just exhausted. Beyond that, even. He needs to go back to bed. Needs to sleep. He tries to push himself to his feet and stumbles backwards, vision whiting out and head buzzing and heart pounding. He catches himself on the wall, the tile cool against his palms and his cheek. Oh. That’s nice and cold, he likes that.  Scott’s up against him in a flash, and Mitch detaches himself from the wall and falls into Scott’s hold, because Scott’s even better than the wall. Scott’s wearing a sweater. It’s soft. Mitch likes soft things. He wants to be stuck to Scott and his soft sweater forever.

Scott’s saying something from above his head.

“Baby, you need to rinse out your mouth and then we’ll go cuddle and sleep, okay?”

Suddenly Mitch is aware of the sour taste in his mouth and he lets go of Scott, stumbling towards the sink and wrenching on the water. Scott rests a hand on his back, and that moment of contact relaxes Mitch just enough that he can focus on sipping the water from his cupped hands. He swishes a couple times and repeats until the sour is gone, and after he dries his mouth off on the towel by the sink, he slumps back into Scott’s chest, and Scott half-carries him to his bed.

“I’m going to go and get you water, okay? I’ll just be a minute,” Scott says once Mitch is settled on the bed. Mitch nods, burrowing under the covers. Scott keeps his promise, and pretty soon, Mitch finds himself propped up against the headboard, curled into Scott’s side with a little bit of water in his tummy. Scott’s trying to get him to have some throat syrup, though, and Mitch isn’t having one bit of it. This is the particularly strong type, the type that works so well but also tastes like shit.

“No,” Mitch says, pressing his lips together and swatting at Scott’s hand. He kind of feels like a little kid.

“C’mon, babe, this’ll make you feel better, you know that.”

Mitch doesn’t know what possesses him to swipe his thumb across his bottom lip and blink up at Scott through his lashes the way he does, but he does.

 “You know what else would make me feel better?”

Scott rolls his eyes. “You’re sick, Mitch, we’re not having sex in the middle of that, it’s not good for either of us.”

Mitch sticks his bottom lip out in one of the best pouts he’s done in a while, if he does say so himself.

“No, Mitch, just eat the medicine then we’ll cuddle, okay?”

Mitch finally relents, because he’s tired and Scott’s sweater is soft and he’s pretty persuasive, okay? He swallows the syrup with a grimace before flailing at Scott to pass him the water.

Once he’s content with the taste in his mouth, he slides down into the covers. Scott follows, and Mitch kind of flops on top of Scott, rest his head on Scott’s chest so he can hear the soothing _thump thump thump_ of Scott’s heart.

It’s not long before he drifts off, held tight in Scott’s arms.

 

-fin.

 

 


	7. Pocket

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Pocket  
> Warnings/TWs: none  
> Tags: Alternate Universe - Office, ?, Meetcute, Fluff, Secret Admirers

It happens every day. Every day at exactly 3:00PM, Mitch leaves his desk to run the physical copies of his reports to his manager, because for some reason he works with old gits who don’t understand how email work. Whenever he comes back at 3:10PM, without fail for the past month, there’s a scrap of paper in his pocket with a little quote or a cute message on it, things like “You got this!” or “Hey, don’t forget you’re beautiful!” or “Sean in Accounting is a bitch, fuck that guy but don’t actually fuck him.” or “You’re doing great!”

Mitch wants to know who this note-leaver is. The first time, he hadn’t even noticed the note until he was halfway home. He’s gotten accustomed to it, though, and as much as each handwritten message makes him smile, he really does want to know who’s been writing them.

He starts simple, just glances around at his office as he leaves his cubicle on his way to the manager’s office. The cubicle walls make it hard to see anything specific, though, so he abandons that idea pretty fast and starts planning something else that’ll be guaranteed to work if he can pull it off.

He starts doing some of his work at home and crams as much as he can in whenever he can. The goal here is to be able to turn in his report for just one day in by lunch instead of 3:00.

Mitch gets his chance one ordinary Tuesday. Nothing’s out of the ordinary, but Mitch turns his report in during his lunch break, and spends the next three hours or so starting with his next one. Once it hits 3, Mitch gets up and stretches, heading out of their work area and towards the manager’s office, but doubles back around the other side of the workspace instead of down the hall. From here, he can kind of see the entrance to his cubicle, where his jacket is resting innocently on his chair.

There’s a few minutes where Mitch thinks nothing’s going to happen, that the person he’s deemed his “secret admirer” has seen through his ruse and won’t go today, but he’s disproven soon enough.

A tall blond boy—man, really, judging by how broad his shoulders are and the scruff dusting his jaw—casually approaches Mitch’s cubicle. Scott, Mitch thinks his name is. With a cursory glance around, Scott crouches just out of Mitch’s line of sight and presumably, slips the note into Mitch’s pocket.

Mitch isn’t letting him get away.

“Scott?” Mitch says, subtly blocking Scott’s only route of escape. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Oh, hi, Mitch,” Scott trips over his words.

“You wouldn’t happen to know who’s been leaving these cute little notes in my jacket pocket, would you?”

“Um,” Scott says, flushing red to his the tips of his little ears. Mitch thinks it’s cute.

Mitch steps around Scott to read today’s note.

_Hey, beautiful, you’re doing great! Even if you think you’re not, you’re still doing better than Sean from accouting :))_

Mitch smiles and grabs a sticky note off his desk and scribbles down his number, sticking it to Scott’s chest.

“Call me, Scott, we should go out for a drink at some point.”

 

-fin.

 


	8. Ritual

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Ritual  
> Warnings/TWs: none  
> Tags: Aftercare, Fluff, Implied Edging, Collars, Light Dom/Sub, BDSM

Scott watches Mitch carefully as he sits on his heels, still, silent, in the middle of the room. He’s a little breathless, courtesy of the orgasm Scott’d finally let him have after half a day of edging, and Scott’s kind of proud of himself for getting Mitch so riled up. He’s so pretty when he comes, and the longer Scott can keep him teetering on the edge, the prettier the final climax is.

 The room’s warm, probably a little more than would be normally comfortable, but right now, in this headspace, Scott knows Mitch won’t notice. He’ll be focused on the slow, steady pace of Scott’s steps on the hardwood. He has to make a conscious effort to keep each pace heavy, because they’re doing a lighter scene today and he’s not in heeled boots, just barefoot in a black tank top and black skinnies. If they were doing a full scene, Scott’d be in something stronger, maybe a leather jacket or blazer on top of skinnies, and Mitch would be completely naked but for a heavy leather collar. Right now, he’s got one of their thinner collars on, still black leather, but much, much lighter, and Scott knows from experience it won’t have thrown him as far under. One of his tshirts sits loosely on his shoulders, puddling softly in his lap. The fabric across his back is a little darker where sweat has soaked through.

_Step._

_Step._

_Step._

Scott stops, then, directly in front of Mitch. Mitch has his head lowered, but he knows Scott’s there.

“Eyes,” Scott says, keeping his voice firm but gentle. He hadn’t let himself completely down into a dom headspace since they’d agreed that today they wanted to keep it light. Mitch had just needed something to help him let go of control for a day, and given their schedule, there’s not enough time for an intense scene and recovery.

Mitch’s gaze meets Scott’s and stays there, unwavering with no inclination to break, something Scott’d normally not stand for, but their ‘Light’ rules are a little more flexible than their normal rules.

“Good. Color? You may speak.”

“Green. Fuzzy,” Mitch says quietly, keeping eye contact. That’s something they’ve worked out for all their scenes - when Scott asks for colors or checks his safeword, Mitch has to make at least a moment of eye contact if he can (but only when asked, and for no longer than a few seconds if they’re in the middle of something). If he’s so far under that that’s not possible, responsibility falls to Scott to determine if he feels it’s safe for them to continue. Usually, if Mitch is _that_ far gone, though, Scott ends the scene and moves into aftercare, because he’s not entirely comfortable sceneing if Mitch can’t verbalize if and when he needs to stop or take a break.

“Good boy,” Scott murmurs, taking the three steps forward so he can crouch in front of Mitch. He lets his left hand run through Mitch’s soft, slightly damp hair and down his cheek, and Mitch shivers, leaning a little into the touch. Scott’s right hand settles gently at Mitch’s throat, left fingers running nimbly to the back of his neck and unlatching the collar with practiced ease. He lets it fall into his right hand and sets it gently on the floor, out of the way. He’ll take care of it later. Mitch’s throat bobs under Scott’s hand as he swallows, and Scott leaves it there a moment before he tips Mitch’s chin up and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. That completes their scene-ending ritual.

“Good boy,” Scott says again before he stands, holding out a hand for Mitch to take. “C’mon. Get on the bed. I’ll be back in one minute.”

Scott pulls Mitch up, steadying him with a hand on his back when he sways from the headrush and probably from the fuzziness of subspace. Scott guides Mitch to their bed, making sure he’s lying down before he leaves the room. The moment the door closes behind Scott, he lets himself take a breath before he dashes his usual route around their apartment. Bathroom to change out of his sweaty tank and into a clean, dry one and throw on a flannel, peel off the skinnies, and wiggle into soft lounge pants. Kitchen to grab a glass of apple juice and saltines for Mitch and two bottles of cool water. Back to their room.

Scott opens the door quietly. Mitch’s curled on his side, facing the door, and Scott smiles when he sees the way Mitch’s face lights up at his appearance. Scott’s only been gone for all of a minute, but it still makes him happy.

“Hi, Mitch. Sit up for a moment, babe.” Scott sets the food and water down on the side table, sitting on the bed and pulling Mitch into a tight hug when he sits up. “Coming back?”

Mitch thinks for a moment, nodding a little. “Yeah. Still fuzzy though.

“Okay. Drink up.” Scott hands Mitch the glass, making sure he gets at least a third of the glass into his system before he takes it back. “Eat at least three of those before we sleep, okay?” He gives Mitch three saltines and waits for him to nibble through them all. Scott gulps down most of his bottle of water and lets Mitch finish the rest, then pushes him gently on the shoulder. “Cuddle time, love.”

Scott pulls Mitch down into the covers so that he’s facing him, and drops a kiss onto Mitch’s forehead.

“You did such a good job today, babe, I’m so proud of you. Was everything okay?”

Mitch nods sleepily, tucking his head into Scott’s shoulder. “Was good. Felt good.”

“And I asked for colors at the right times?”

Mitch nods again. “’m sleepy.”

“Okay. Sleep now, I’m here. We’ll talk more when you wake up. I love you, Mitchy.” Scott presses another kiss to Mitch’s head before Mitch burrows a little closer and Scott closes his eyes.

 

-fin.


	9. Fruit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Fruit  
> Warnings/TWs: none  
> Tags: Fluff, Innuendos, Outsider POV

“Scott,” Esther says. “Scott. You need to stop.”

Scott looks up at her. “What?”

Esther sighs. They’ve been over this. Goddamnit. “We’re on the bus, Scott.”

“Yeah, and?”

Sometimes Esther wonders why the fuck she puts up with these children. “What’s the bus rule about fruit?”

“Um. Eat it? It’s good for you?” Scott says, glancing at Mitch, who’s sitting across from him, next to Esther. Esther pinches the bridge of her nose. Why must they do this.

“No, Scott, the rule about fruit on the bus applies specifically to bananas. We do not eat bananas on this bus unless they’re cut up.”

Scott looks down at the banana in his hand. “Right.”

Mitch is smirking, and Scott picks it right up from him. Esther sighs again. “Listen. The last time you ate a banana on the bus, Scott, the entire bunk area smelled like come for the next three hours and you and Mitch both used up like at least half a tube of concealer apiece for the show that night. I don’t need to hear you two fucking, _again_.”

Scott looks chastised for all of a moment before he shrugs and puts the banana back into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks around it and levelling what the fandom calls his “predatory eyes” on Mitch. Esther drops her head into her hands as Mitch swipes a thumb over his bottom lip, pulling it to the side.

Esther thinks she left her noise-cancelling headphones in her bunk. They’d better be there, or else it’s going to be a hell of a long night with Scott and Mitch sharing a bunk less than three feet away.

Great.

 

 

-fin.


	10. Dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Dance  
> Warnings/TWs: nope  
> Tags: Alternate Universe - Dancers, Mitch Uses She/Her Pronouns, Fluff

Mitch is thirteen when she gets the call to dance on a music video shoot. It’s a pretty big deal, she thinks, working for Grammy-winning singers, so of course she’s going to take it. Her manager mentions that they’re looking for someone male-bodied who’s comfortable dancing in a dress, so they reached out specifically for her. Mitch appreciates the fact that they thought of her.

When Mitch shows up for fitting day, she’s ushered to her dressing room. The door says “Mitch Grassi and Scott Hoying” and Mitch thinks Scott must be the other kid dancing with her. She hopes they’re nice.

“Hi! I’m Scott,” is the first thing Mitch hears when she opens the door. She startles a little before she recovers herself and her manners.

“Hi Scott, I’m Mitch. Nice to meet you. I use she/her pronouns, what about you?” It’s become automatic for Mitch to introduce herself with her pronouns or else people either use he/him (which Mitch is okay with, she’d just rather she/her) or awkwardly try to avoid using pronouns at all.

“Okay, I use he/him,” Scott says without missing a beat. “Come in, I think that’s your half of the room.” He waves a hand to the left of the room. There’s a curtain on a rail that’s open right now, but looks like it can close off the room entirely if that’s what they wanted.

Mitch spies what looks like a dress of pink fabric hanging on the rack in the corner of her side of the room, but she chooses to ignore it in favor of what Scott’s fiddling with on his rack.

“What are you wearing?” Mitch asks, hesitantly making her way over to Scott’s side of the room.

Scott pulls a hanger off the rack. “Suit, but like it’s modified and stretchy so I can actually move around in it.” Mitch strokes the fabric gently. It’s smooth and feels fairly elastic, but it looks like a real suit jacket. It has roses embroidered on each side of it, and Mitch thinks it’s very pretty.

A stylist comes in a few minutes later and gets them both fitted for their respective outfits- the flowy pink dress for Mitch that she likes the feeling of twirling in, and the rose-embroidered suit for Scott.

They’re not scheduled to actually be rehearsing today, but since neither of them have anything else booked for the day and people are still around trying to stage sets and stuff like that, they take the opportunity to sneak into a practice room and start getting a feel for each other. They’ve both done their own routine learning with people of approximately similar proportions, but the more time they get actually dancing with each other, the more in-tune they’ll be.

It’s weird for Mitch when she realizes a few steps into their combined parts that she and Scott are moving as one, even without ever dancing together before. Somehow, there’s no tripping, no off-steps, nothing at all that suggests they just met a bit over an hour ago. Scott notices it, too, if the way he’s grinning is any indication.

“This is going to be a heck of a lot of fun, isn’t it, Mitch?” Scott asks once they finish their first run-through of the routine as best as they can without proper set blocking.

Mitch nods. “I can’t wait.”

 

 

-fin.


	11. Messy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Messy  
> Warnings/TWs: none  
> Tags: Smut, Blowjobs, Rough Sex, Dom/Sub Undertones, BDSM, kinda, Jealousy, Possessiveness 
> 
> NOTE: work rating has been updated from Mature to Explicit  
> NOTE 2.0: thank you cat i love you

They’ve talked about this. It’s something both of them fantasize about—Mitch on his knees in front of another man with Scott waiting and watching. It’s the humiliation of it that gets Mitch going, the idea that Scott is making him to prove himself before he’s allowed to please Scott. It’s the visual of it that gets Scott going, the red-hot jealousy of seeing Mitch, _his Mitch_ , kneeling in front of someone else, making them feel good, touching them in ways that should be _his_.

Scott’s too jealous for it to happen with another person, though, they both know. Scott can barely keep his hands from the throat of anyone who so much as dares look at his Mitchy the wrong way, neither of them want to see what’ll surely happen if they bring someone real into this.

Essentially, this shared fantasy of theirs has been, well, just that. A fantasy.

Until now.

Mitch comes home to Scott waiting at the door. He’s got a full performance outfit on, that one leather jacket over a black tshirt over black skinnies. He looks taller than he usually is, and Mitch glances down to see those damn heeled boots Scott’s been so fond of recently. Mitch shivers. Scott doesn’t dress up like this at home except for one thing. They’re playing tonight.

“Hi, Mitchy,” Scott says, his soft tone a harsh contrast to what he’s wearing. Mitch knows it’s Scott’s way of giving him out in case he’s not in the mood for it, but _fuck_ _yeah,_ he’s in the mood tonight. Mitch leaves his bag on the couch and toes his shoes off, accentuating the height difference when Scott takes a step closer to him.

“Yeah?” Scott asks, breath just brushing Mitch’s ear.

Mitch nods. “Yeah.”

“Good.”

It’s but the work of a few seconds that Mitch finds himself in his room, stripped to nothing but a tshirt and briefs. That’s always where and how they start their scenes unless they’ve specifically chosen somewhere else, but not this time. There’s a short knock on the door and Scott comes in before Mitch can even reply. Oh. That’s how it’s going to go tonight.

Mitch can feel himself letting go of control as Scott grabs his hand and leads him wordlessly out into the hallway. It makes his head spin in a good way, and somehow, despite the persona Scott has on right now, he still feels safe here.

Scott takes him down the hall to a room that’s oddly unfamiliar, though Mitch can see the familiar blue of the walls even with the dull light. A corner of Scott’s room has been cleared,  and- oh.

Oh.

Scott pulls him forward, taps him on the shoulder to signify “kneel”. Mitch lowers himself onto the floor, facing Scott. The wood is cold and unforgiving against his knees. He’s expecting Scott to unzip his jeans, because they’ve done something like this before, but no, Scott doesn’t. He grabs Mitch’s chin in his hand, turning his head to the wall, and _oh._

 _Oh. That’s_ what they’re doing. Mitch can feel his cheeks flush red just the _idea_ of what Scott’s about to make him do.

There’s a dildo attached to the wall, just above a comfortable height for Mitch to kneel at.

“Blow him,” Scott says, voice low and flat, lacking any kind of emotion.

“I-” Mitch can’t help the beginning of a protest that spills out.

“Prove yourself to me, Mitchell. Suck him off and earn a place at my feet if you want it so bad,” Scott orders, and chills run down Mitch’s spine at the use of his full name.

The first feel of the silicone in Mitch’s mouth makes him wince. He’s never liked it, the way it’s cool and smooth and tasteless and so unlike a real cock. Scott wants him to earn his place, though, so he reluctantly sets off with a hand and as much spit as he can muster up.

Scott’s retreated a few feet, though Mitch can still see him out of the corner of his eye.

“You’d better get him actually interested if you want any chance here,” Scott says offhandedly, like it doesn’t matter to him if Mitch actually ends up blowing him or not. Mitch can feel his own dick filling out in his briefs, but he resists the urge to touch himself, or he’ll surely be punished.

He starts putting a little more effort into it, head bobbing up and down most of the shaft and a hand catching where he can’t reach quite yet. There’s spit starting to run down his chin, and his thighs are burning from the effort of holding himself up at a height just too high for comfort. Scott chose that height specifically, he realizes in his fuzzy headspace, Scott chose that height particularly to make him work for it.

“Is he even hard, Mitchell?” Scott’s voice rasps out from somewhere behind him. He’s moved to a spot Mitch can’t see him in, and somehow, it makes it all the more exciting. A burst of shame runs straight to his dick, and he whimpers around the silicone in his mouth. He needs to do better, needs to finish this guy off so he can have Scott’s cock in his mouth. Mitch starts with some of the things he does with his tongue, but he doesn’t know the feel and shape of this dick, keeps missing spots he thinks he should know. There’s saliva dripping down onto the floor, and it’s so fucking _humiliating_ , because Mitch knows he can do better than this, he’s not giving it his all, he simultaneously loves and hates the idea that he has to prove himself to Scott before he’ll be allowed to make Scott feel good like he knows he can.

There’s a low groan from Scott, who’s moved back to his original spot just within Mitch’s field of vision. Mitch meets his eyes for a split second, and even within that time, he can see the jealousy burning bright in Scott’s eyes, can see the tell-tale bulge at the front of his jeans that he seems to be ignoring, can see the way he looks like he’s going to jump Mitch. It’s undeniably hot, and Mitch’s cock throbs against his hip. He wants Scott, wants Scott to pull him off the dildo and fuck his mouth and come in his throat and make him swallow it all, but Scott’s just standing, staring, eyes narrowed, arms crossed.

Mitch turns a little so he can keep eye contact with Scott as he swirls his tongue around the head of the dildo, lapping up imaginary precome and letting his saliva coat the shaft so it slides through his lips more easily.

There’s a moment Mitch thinks it hasn’t worked, that Scott’s just going to watch, but Scott takes three strides forward, grabbing a handful of Mitch’s hair and yanking him backwards. Spit runs down Mitch’s chin, down his neck, down his chest, and Mitch loves it. He loves how _filthy_ he feels like this, with Scott holding his head and his chin wet with saliva and his chest heaving for breath.

Scott undoes his jeans just enough to shove them halfway down his thighs before he’s pushing his cock into Mitch’s mouth and Mitch lets out a muffled moan. Scott tastes and feels better than he usually does, the familiar musk overwhelming Mitch and pushing out any residual silicone taste.

”You’re _mine_ , Mitchy, _mine. All mine_ ,” Scott growls as Mitch moans in agreement, nodding as best as he can with Scott’s hand in his hair and Scott’s dick in his throat and ScottScottScottScott everywhere until that’s all he can see and feel and taste and smell and it’s a lot and it’s overwhelming but it’s a good overwhelming.

Mitch lets Scott fuck his throat as he pleases, trying to relax and letting Scott take control of the way his hips are snapping and forcing his cock down, down, down. His hand isn’t fisted in Mitch’s hair anymore, but it’s still on his head, pressing Mitch closer and closer. Mitch lets him, takes what he’s given and reveling in the sheer _presence_ of Scott everywhere.

“Touch yourself, Mitchy, you’ve earned it,” Scott grits out, and Mitch sucks in a gasp when he finally, finally gets a hand on himself. He’s so hard, has been since Scott’s jibes, and there’s a decent sized wet patch on his briefs where he’s been leaking, and that just makes it all the better. He’s _so messy,_ spit and tears and Scott’s precome mixing on his face, and he could almost come from just imagining how desperate he must look right now, letting Scott use his face as he’s trying to get himself off inside his briefs.

It’s not long before Scott growls, “I’m close, Mitchy.” That’s what tips Mitch over the edge. He comes into his briefs with a choked off moan, and it’s just a few thrusts later that Scott’s coming in his mouth. Mitch tries to swallow it all, and he manages most of it outside of the dribble that leaks from the corner of his mouth to join the mess of spit and precome on his chin.

“You did such a good job, Mitchy,” Scott says, crouching down to Mitch’s level and Mitch gives him a tired smile. Scott runs his thumb over Mitch’s swollen lips, pressing in gently to let Mitch suck off the remaining come on his fingers.

Mitch loves it. He says as much to Scott, who laughs quietly.

“We’ll be doing this again.”

 

 

-fin.


	12. Strong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Strong  
> Warnings/TWs: none  
> Tags: Fluff, unintentionally deep if you think too hard about it, unintentional symbolism

Mitch isn’t sure about it at first.

“Scott… you’re not the most graceful person on the planet, I really don’t want to fall on my ass and break something.”

Scott sighs. “I’m not going to drop you, Mitchy, you mean too much to me for that.”

“Does it really matter if you love me if you fall over the second I land in your arms?” Mitch retorts, only partially teasing. Scott’s got him wrapped up tight in a hug on the couch, though, at the moment, so he’s kind of making a moot point.

“So if you don’t want to jump, I’ll just pick you up. We know I can do that.”

Mitch nods reluctantly. They need this kiss shot, so maybe they’ll start with Scott picking him up. He trusts Scott, for sure, but he’s still not confident Scott’s actually coordinated enough to catch him and not fall over.

Their first take, Mitch lets Scott pick him up, and their rewatch instantly shows how unenthusiastic it looks. That won’t do. Their second take, Mitch puts a little more effort into it, and they decide they need more, still.

“Mitch,” Scott murmurs as they set up for their third take. “Do you trust me?”

Mitch nods. There’s no other response that he could possibly give. He trusts Scott with his life.

“Do the full jump, baby, I’ve got you.”

Mitch doesn’t decide to go through with it until he sees how bright and happy Scott genuinely looks when they turn to face each other, and he distantly hopes they get the right angle to show the way Scott’s eyes are glittering.

He takes a breath and jumps.

 

-fin.

 

 


	13. Temptation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Temptation  
> Warnings/TWs: nope  
> Tags: Feminization, Mitch Uses She/Her Pronouns, Lingerie, Shaving, a Hint(tm) of Daddy Kink, Genderfluid Character

Mitch smooths her hands down over her hips, admiring herself in the mirror in the bathroom. She shaved tonight, and her legs are smooth and soft and she kind of loves it. She’s missed this.

She picks up the lace panties that are resting on the counter. They’re a deep wine red, black trimming the edges. Mitch slides them on, relishing the drag of lace on smooth skin, and settles them on her hips. She debates if she wants to tuck or not, since it’ll determine some of how Scott reads her and how they’ll interact in general tonight. She ends up tucking, and the extra effort is worth how smooth it all looks when she turns sideways in the mirror.

There’s a matching bralette, too, so Mitch slips that over her head and settles it as best as she can on her chest, which is also satisfyingly smooth.

She takes one last look at herself in the mirror before she leaves the bathroom.

“ _Fuck_ , princess,” is Scott’s first response, so she thinks she’s done well.

Scott’s eyes roam over her entire body, everything from her legs to the panties to the bralette to the red lipstick to the mascara and eyeliner.

“Daddy, come touch, she’s soft,” Mitch says, dragging her thumb across her lip, smearing the red and taking two steps closer to where Scott’s sitting.

“Fuck yeah, babygirl. Get on the bed.”

 

-fin.


	14. Second

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Second  
> Warnings/TWs: none  
> Tags: Angst, Character Study, Kinda, Unrequited Love

[read it here!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12047385)


	15. Sharing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Sharing  
> Warnings/TWs: none  
> Tags: Fluff, Cuddles, Scent Kink, except it's not kink it's just cute idk

It’s been a longass day, and all Mitch wants to do is sleep.

 “Mitchy?”

Mitch pauses halfway into his room when he hears Scott call.

“Yeah?”

“C’mere.”

Mitch hesitates. Hopefully this won’t take too long so he can sleep. He yawns as he pushes Scott’s door open. It’s dim, just lit by Scott’s little blue-shaded lamp on his nightstand.

“M’home, daddy,” Mitch says, and Scott grins tiredly. He’s curled under the covers, and Mitch closes the door behind him.

“Cuddles?” Scott asks, and who would Mitch be to deny him that? Besides, it’s not like he doesn’t want cuddles too.

Mitch strips down to just his underwear, leaving his clothes in a pile on the floor. There’s a reason he wore sweats today instead of something fancy and easily-creased. Scott holds the duvet up for Mitch to slide under, and Mitch can feel the tension of the day draining away as he sinks into Scott’s bed, into the warm cocoon of scents. He can pick out their detergent—Scott must’ve changed his sheets today—as well as a hint of Scott’s shampoo and hand lotion. There’s also something just Scott, as stupidly cliché as that is. To Mitch, it’s bright and warm and comforting, but there are also darker, muskier undertones that mix with the bright to make the wonderful scent Mitch has come to know as _Scott_.

He burrows into Scott’s chest, tangling their bare legs together until he can’t tell where he ends and Scott begins.

Mitch feels Scott’s arms come around him and squeeze tight.

“I’ll go back to my own room to sleep,” Mitch mumbles, although he can already feel his eyelids drooping.

“No, stay,” Scott whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

That’s all it really takes for Mitch to nod. “Okay. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

It’s just a few moments before they’re both asleep, curled tightly together, safe from the world.

 

-fin.


	16. Bag

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Bag  
> Warnings/TWs: none  
> Tags: Fluff, Meetcute, kinda, Attempted Mugging

Having someone crashing to the ground next to you isn’t the best walk to class you could possibly have on a Monday morning, and yet here Mitch is.

“The fuck.” Is his first, very eloquent response.

His second thought is that oh, shit, there are two people on the ground, one with his arms wrapped tightly around the other.

“What the fuck.” Is his second, slightly more polished reaction.

“Sorry!” The one on top yells. “Your bag was unzipped and this piece of shit,” the man raps the one he’s pinning to the ground on the back of the head, “Was about to grab something, so I hope you don’t mind that I tackled him.”

Mitch blinks.

“The _fuck_.”

“Okay, you seem a little shocked so hi, I’m Scott, nice to meet you, I’d shake your hand but I’m kind of busy trying to keep this guy here so you’ll have to excuse me.”

Mitch keeps on blinking. “Um. I’m Mitch.”

“Nice to meet you, Mitch, mind snapping a pic of this guy’s face before I let him go?”

“Uh, okay?” Mitch pulls his phone out and takes a picture of the guy’s face, and Scott grins.

“Great. Okay, buddy, run, you have five minutes before I anonymously tip the police.” Mitch watches in bemused fascination as Scott gets up and brushes his hands and knees off. The other man runs off and disappears around the corner.

Suddenly, the realization sinks in for Mitch. “Oh, shit.”

Scott looks at him. “You okay?”

“Shit. Yeah, I just processed what just happened, oh my god.” Mitch swings his backpack off his shoulder and zips up the pocket that was open. “Thank you so much.”

Scott shrugs, blush tinting his cheeks. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Listen, I want to thank you somehow but I really have to get to class, what if I give you my number and we’ll grab coffee on me sometime?” Mitch rummages around for a loose piece of scrap paper, and he scribbles his number and a smiley face on it.

Scott beams. “Sure. Have fun in class!”

 

 

-fin.

 

 


	17. Sister

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Sister  
> Warnings/TWs: none  
> Tags: Kid Fic, Fluff, Domesticity, Mitch Uses She/Her Pronouns, similar verse to ping-pong, Parenting Skills 101

“Daddy, am I getting a _sister?”_ Shaylie asks them, bouncing eagerly on her bed.

Scott laughs. “Yes, Shay, we are. We’re going to go pick her up tomorrow, so go to sleep.”

“But I don’t wanna, I wanna meet my sister!”

“Shay, it’s time for bed. If you don’t sleep, it’ll be a long, long time before it’s time to go get your sister,” Mitch says, her voice firm.

“How long?” Shaylie sits down, staring up at them with big eyes. Mitch sighs. There’s no way Scott’s not going to give in and let her stay up.

“How long do you go to school for?” Mitch knows it’s five hours, but she wants Shaylie to piece it together herself.

“Five!” Shaylie exclaims, holding up a little hand. Her nails are painted bright pink to match the rubber bands on her braces.

“Right. It’s nine right now, and we’re coming home with Madison at eleven tomorrow morning. That’s fifteen hours. Do you know how many school days that is?” Mitch isn’t sure how far her division skills have come and if Scott’s little tutoring sessions have stuck, but it’ s worth a shot.

“Ummmm,” Shaylie says, furrowing her brows. “A school day is five hours, and there’s fifteen hours before my sister comes here. Is that fifteen divided by five?”

Mitch glances over at Scott, who’s beaming, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Yes, it is.”

“Thatt’s three school days,” Shaylie murmurs, realization dawning on her face. “Oh. That’s a long time.”

“Yep. But if you do what Mommy says and sleep, I’ll get you up at nine and then there’ll only be three hours before Madison’s here.”

Shaylie’s eyes widen. “Okay!” She throws herself down and dives under the blanket, squeezing her eyes shut. “Goodnight, turn the lights off!”

Mitch grins at Scott, who’s gaping at her. “How… did you do that?”

“Practice.”

 

-fin.


	18. Clouds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Clouds  
> Warnings/TWs: none  
> Tags: Hurt/Comfort
> 
> idea borrowed from cat i think!! love u bb

Mitch’s first instinct when he hears the thunder in the distance is to throw himself under the covers, to wrap himself up and play music loud enough to drown out the rumbling.

What he doesn’t expect is Scott to knock gently on his door, barely audible through the blanket.

“Mitchy? You okay?”

Mitch whimpers as another crack of thunder splits the air. It feels like it’s getting closer and Mitch wants to cry.

“Mitchy?” Scott’s voice is louder now, and somewhere behind the fear, he thinks Scott’s opened the door.

“Can I come in?” Mitch tries to make sense of Scott’s voice, tries to make sense of his thoughts over the rambling monologue of _scared scared scared dangerous no no no no dangerous scared make it stop please stop stop stop make it stop._ The best he can do is a garbled mess of something resembling ‘okay’.

“Are you okay?” Scott asks again, just as gently. Mitch knows Scott knows about the thing with thunder, it’s been a thing since they were little.

Mitch shakes his head under the duvet, then remembers Scott probably can’t see him. It’s okay, though, when Scott rests a hand on the blanket and presses down just hard enough that Mitch can feel it. The foot of the bed dips as Scott sits.

“I’m here, Mitchy, you’re safe and I’ll sit with you as long as you let me.”

Mitch curls tighter on himself under the blanket and Scott’s hand stays, as firm and steady as always.

 

 

-fin.


	19. Multiple

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Multiple  
> Warnings/TWs: none  
> Tags: Fluff, Alternate Universe - College, Cats

“We’re college students, Scott, we literally can’t afford five cats,” Mitch warns as they head through the shelter hallways to the cat side of the place. “One cat. That’s all we’re getting.”

Scott grins. “Okay.”

“I’m serious, Scott, _one cat only._ ”

There are rows and rows of little metal cages on both sides, three high and at least seven down the row. Mitch watches as Scott bounds down the row with all the enthusiasm of the dog they’d decided against, since they _really_ don’t have time for a dog. Scott’s peering inside to each cat, sticking his fingers through the grates and letting them bat at him, jerking back in one instance when he apparently gets a nibble.

“Scott,” Mitch says. “One.”

Scott looks at him. “But look here, Mitchy, c’mere.”

Mitch joins him in front of the cage. It’s holding two cats, unlike all the other cats by themselves. These two are curled tightly around each other, one grey and sleek and small and the other a massive ball of white fluff. The card clipped to their door reads “Hi! We’re Saz and Min! We’re not from the same litter but we’ve been together since we were ten weeks old and we can’t be separated, we’re a package deal!”

“It’s us,” Mitch comments, and Scott turns to him, beaming.

“Exactly! It’s even S and M like us and they look like us and they met at ten weeks, Mitchy, we _have_ to get them.”

Mitch sighs, although the idea is growing on him. “Let’s get someone to let us hold them and we’ll go from there.”

Tyler, the enthusiastic blonde they find at the front desk, gives them the cats’ backstory. “See, these two are my favorite. They’ve been back so many times it’s kind of sad. When they came, we tried to adopt them out separately a few times, but they weren’t eating and were just really sad, so they came back and reunited and I cried, and I would never let them get separated. They’re soulmates. You’re not going to do that, right? You’ll keep them together?”

Scott nods eagerly as Tyler unlocks the cage. Saz and Min stir sleepily, their eyes blinking open. To Mitch’s surprise, Saz has clear blue irises, and they’re oddly reminiscent of Scott’s eye color. Min has brown eyes. Mitch glances over at Scott, who looks giddy.

“Mitch, _they have our eyes, too_ ,” Scott whispers as Tyler reaches in and picks up Min, handing her to Scott. She’s a tiny little thing, climbing up onto Scott’s shoulders and balancing there, rubbing her face through the hairs at the nape of his neck.

Tyler hands Saz to Mitch. He’s heavier than Mitch expects, all white fur and loud purrs. Mitch is in love.

After a few minutes, Mitch swaps cats with Scott, and once he holds Min, he knows it’s a done deal. They’re walking out of here with two cats, not one.

It takes them a few minutes to settle the paperwork, but once that’s done, they’re each walking out of the shelter with one carrier in hand.

The cats settle into their apartment fast, and Mitch comes to find it’s not unusual to come home to them curled together on his and Scott’s bed, as much as they try to stop that.

It’s okay, because Mitch can’t find it in his heart to kick them off, Scott even less so.

Mitch finds himself hoping this lasts forever, their odd little family of four that feels more like two and two, Scott and Mitch and Saz and Min.

 

 

-fin.

 


	20. Sandwich

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Sandwich  
> Warnings/TWs: None  
> Tags: Meetcute, Kidfic, literally they're kids

It’s Mitch’s first day of middle school. He’s a little nervous, because he knows it’ll be louder and more crowded than his little elementary school, but hopefully it’ll be okay.

He keeps to himself for most of the first week, getting his homework turned in and learning where his classrooms are and most importantly, where the choir room is.

His fifth day of school, he’s sitting at a table alone, even though he’s not really by himself, per se. Some of the faces he knows from elementary are with him, but they’re talking loudly through mouthfuls of food, and Mitch doesn’t want any part in it. He unwraps his sandwich—just jelly, because his sister is allergic to peanuts even though Mitch isn’t—and jumps when someone drops their bag onto the table next to him.

“Hi! I’m Scott, can I sit here?”

Mitch looks up to see a lanky blonde boy, maybe a little older than him, grinning brighter than sunshine. Mitch nods.

“I’m Mitch,” Mitch says, going for a bite of his sandwich when Scott interrupts him.

“What’s in that?” He gestures at Mitch’s sandwich.

Mitch shrugs. “Just jelly. You?”

Scott’s eyes widen. “Just peanut butter, none of my family likes jelly except me. Want half?”

“I have a better idea. Give me one slice and I’ll give you a slice and then we’ll both have a full peanut butter and jelly!” Mitch exclaims.

It’s no coincidence when they end up sharing slices of bread for the entirety of that year, and the years after that until they’re in high school and then they just share food in general. Twenty years down the line, Scott will forget to buy jelly sometimes, and Mitch will tease him about it until _he_ forgets to buy peanut butter and then they’ll just trade sweet kisses instead of bread. Their kids will think the sandwich story is cute but a little over-dramatized until one day, Madison will come home with a sticky smile on her face sometime in high school, talking about this girl who’d introduced her to the wonders of butter and honey sandwiches.

Scott and Mitch will only smile.

 

 

-fin.


	21. Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Fall  
> Warnings/TWs: none  
> Tags: Alternate Universe - Genderswap, Girl!Scomiche, Fluff

Michelle sighs as her girlfriend stops to take yet another ‘aesthetic photo’ of her Uggs against the orange-red leaves on the ground.

“Hurry up, Scottie, your pumpkin spice latte is waiting for you,” she calls, and Scottie laughs.

“Let me be basic, Shell, go summon a demon for Halloween prep or something.”

“Okay, binch, for the last damn time, I’m not into that,” Michelle rolls her eyes, smiling when Scottie comes and takes her hand.

“Oh come on, don’t be like that, I follow you on Tumblr, remember? I know all your secrets.”

“Hah, right, reblogging every one of the Sixpenceee midnight dares doesn’t make me a witch,” Michelle shoots back, swinging their hands between them. They must make an odd pair, one of them in a leather jacket and black skinnies, dark hair pulled up into something too messy to be called a bun, and the other in a big, fluffy sweater with the most basic of black leggings and tan Uggs, blond mane loose on her shoulders. It works for them, though.

“Oh c’mon, just wait until you get accidentally seduced by some random succubus you summon on Halloween,” Scottie teases, and Michelle drops her head onto her shoulder.

“I would never cheat on my girl with just any succubus, don’t worry about it. She’s gotta be at least open to discussion before we turn this into poly.”

Scottie pouts. “But you’re _my_ Shell. _Mine_.”

Michelle lets Scottie pull her into some semblance of a hug that feels somewhat like a headlock, and she laughs, prodding at Scottie’s side to make her laugh and let go.

“I’d never, babe, not unless you were okay with it.”

“I love you,” Scottie says, and Michelle’s heart does a little flutter. She’s never going to get tired of hearing that.

“I love you too, darling.”

-fin.

 

 


	22. Lucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Lucky  
> Warnings/TWs: none  
> Tags: it's a surprise :D, fluff and angst

Scott doesn’t know how he got so lucky to have Him. They’re best friends.

They’ve been through the wringer and back. They’ve been friends since they were young. They’ve dated. They’ve stopped talking. They’ve gotten close again.

Scott doesn’t know how he got so lucky to have Him. They’re best friends. They’re soulmates.

They joke about it sometimes, about being the only one for each other. They’ve talked about it, too. They’ve made casual promises about getting together if they’re single and alone in ten years.

Scott doesn’t know how he got so lucky to have Him. They’re best friends. They’re soulmates. They’re lovers.

They didn’t really mean to bring sex into feelings, at first, but it’d happened as a drunk one-off and it’d just kind of kept happening. It’s okay. They talk about it. They agree it’s some kind of step-by-step thing, that other relationships are okay as long as they discuss it for now.

Scott doesn’t know how he got so lucky to have Him. They’re best friends. They’re soulmates. They’re lovers. They’re committed.

The rings they wear sometimes are promises for a forever future, but not yet.

Scott doesn’t know how he got so lucky to have Him. They’re best friends. They’re soulmates. They’re lovers. They’re committed. They’re boyfriends.

It wasn’t a big thing. It was just a single conversation.

_Scott._

_Yeah?_

_I’m ready if you are._

_Yeah. I’m ready. I love you._

_I love you, too._

Scott doesn’t know how he got so lucky to be here, side by side with his best friend, his soulmate, his lover, his boyfriend. His fiancé.

It’d been a quiet proposal, at home during dinner.

_I’m so lucky to have you in my life. We’ve been through it all and we’re best friends and boyfriends and we’re going to conquer the world together. I love you so much, and I hope you want me in your life as much as I do. Will you marry me?_

_Yes, Scotty, yes! I love you so much._

Scott doesn’t know how he got so lucky to be standing here, at the altar, across from his best friend, his soulmate, his lover.

_I do._

_I do._

Scott doesn’t know how he got so lucky to be standing here, across from his best friend, his soulmate, his lover. His husband.

His heart hurts when he spots Mitch sitting in the first row, drawn and pale and a little teary, but he’ll be okay. If Scott has his Someone, Mitch will find his someday.

(what do you do when you’ve found your Someone but you’re not their Someone?)

(some people move on. it’s never been like that for mitch.)

(it’s okay. as long as scott’s happy.)

(it’ll be okay.)

(right?)

 

-fin.


	23. Lucky (the real one)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha motherfuckers here's the real Lucky, the one i wrote first and the one that's going to fix your heart  
> Tags: Fluff

Scott doesn’t know how he got so lucky to have Mitch. They’re best friends.

They’ve been through the wringer and back. They’ve been through it all. They’ve been friends since they were ten. They’ve been best friends since almost then. They’ve been lovers in high school. They’ve stopped talking. They’ve gotten close again.

Scott doesn’t know how he got so lucky to have Mitch. They’re best friends. They’re soulmates.

They joke about it sometimes, about being the only one for each other. They’ve talked about it, too. They’ve made casual promises about getting together if they’re single and alone in ten years. They’ve made not-so-casual promises about always being there for each other.

Scott doesn’t know how he got so lucky to have Mitch. They’re best friends. They’re soulmates. They’re lovers.

They didn’t really mean to bring sex into feelings, at first, but it’d happened on tour and it’d just kind of kept happening. It’s okay. They talk about it. They agree it’s some kind of day-by-day thing, that other relationships are okay as long as they’re relatively short-term and very discussed before committing to anything even remotely longer term.

Scott doesn’t know how he got so lucky to have Mitch. They’re best friends. They’re soulmates. They’re lovers. They’re committed.

The Cartier rings, both the matching one and the twisted one Scott’d gotten for Mitch on his birthday, weren’t supposed to symbolize anything  more than _future forever_ , but they ended up doing that. The Cartier bracelet did the same thing, on a smaller scale. It meant that it was forever, but not yet.

Scott doesn’t know how he got so lucky to have Mitch. They’re best friends. They’re soulmates. They’re lovers. They’re committed. They’re boyfriends.

It wasn’t a big thing. It was just a single conversation.

_Scott._

_Yeah?_

_I’m ready if you are._

_Yeah. Yeah, I’m ready. I love you._

_I love you, too._

Scott doesn’t know how he got so lucky to be here, side by side with his best friend, his soulmate, his lover, his boyfriend. His fiancé.

It’d been a quiet proposal, at home during dinner.

_I’m so lucky to have you in my life. We’ve been through it all and we’re best friends and boyfriends and we’re going to conquer the world together. I love you so, so much, and I hope you want me in your life as much as I do. Mitchy, will you marry me?_

Mitch had cried. _Yes, Scotty, one-hundred times yes. I love you so much._

Scott doesn’t know how he got so lucky to be standing here, at the altar, across from his best friend, his soulmate, his lover.

_I do._

_I do._

Scott doesn’t know how he got so lucky to be standing here, across from Mitch - his best friend, his soulmate, his lover. His husband.

Sometimes, the universe lines up just right, and your Someone also knows you’re their Someone.

It’s too rare, too far and few between, but sometimes, it just works out right.

 

-fin.


	24. Plastic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Plastic  
> Warnings/TWs: None  
> Tags: Alternate Universe, ASMR

_Hey everyone, it’s Scott. Welcome back to the weekly patron-requested video. You can sign up for a chance at requesting something here down below on my Patreon, on the second tier, thank you so much to anyone who’s supporting me, it really means a lot. So, today, we’re doing a handful of plastic tapping and scratching triggers. This is a request from Mitch. If I’m remembering right, you’ve been here since almost the beginning, right? Thank you so much for your continued support, Mitch. You can find timestamps in the description box below, and now, onto the tingles!_

While Mitch usually doesn’t scream when he’s trying to sleep with ASMR on, he can’t suppress the little squeak he makes when he hears his name in the intro. He does remember sending the plastic triggers as his request, but  he’d forgotten about it relatively quickly. He’d been happy to see a new upload from scruffASMR right before bed, and the fact that it was tapping and scratching was really just a bonus, honestly. He loved all of Scott’s uploads, even the odd patron-requested ones.

But holy shit. Scott actually chose his. Holy fucking shit.

Mitch wants to make that clip his ringtone so he can tingle every time someone calls him.

That’s weird.

But nonetheless.

Holy fuck.

 

-fin.


	25. Turn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Turn  
> Warnings/TWs: none  
> Tags: Angst, idek skjdgsjk

it happens

in turns.

Silence,

then tears-

then Desperation.

Begging, _please please can we try_

_again_

then long talks,

then trials.

Flirting, then

kisses, then falling asleep

together. promises, then Hope, then

close and sweet and soft and hands and sleep and forever and maybe now just maybe but then

empty.

silent silent sile n t s i le n   t too far

p u l l  s t  r   e    t     c      h 

te/ar .

tears-

and

again

and

It happens in

Turns.

.fin-


	26. Sound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Sound  
> Warnings/TWs: none  
> Tags: Synesthesia, Outsider POV
> 
> NOTE: i don't experience synesthesia myself, though i do associate certain colors with certain voice types entirely because of auditory things that a choir nerd learns after seven years of choir nerding

You can see voices. You’ve been able to see voices since you can remember. Since kindergarten, when your class sang happy birthday to your friend. It’d been an explosion of colors streaking across your vision. No one’d believed you when you told them.

It wasn’t until middle school that you learned about something called _synesthesia_. It meant that you saw certain things as colors. You thought that was pretty cool.

In high school, you learned to use it to your benefit in choir. You learned to read the combinations of colors and be able to tell if things were in tune, often more accurately than the conductor.

There, you met your best friends. Scott and Mitch had been friends longer than you could even really comprehend. Their voices, though, were special. They weren’t single tones or even two or three shades like most people. They were whole spectrums of colors.

Scott was blue, mainly. Almost like a navy, but not quite. A little lighter than navy, but the same kind of tone. A stormy blue in his lowest ranges . Sometimes red, too. Not a lot, but a little dancing around the edges when he got higher in his chest voice. More in falsetto, but softer, too. Sometimes purple, but rarely. Scott’s voice was soothing to watch. His speaking voice, too, was blue, but that was shades of navy and sometimes a lighter streak.

Mitch was harder to pinpoint. He was better at blending and changing his voice at will, but he always danced with some kind of smooth wine red, whether that was the base or streaks. He also tended to be within the warm colors, the reds and oranges and yellows and every color in between. It wasn’t unusual to see silver or ivory or white flickering throughout, especially in his lower range. His higher range tended towards the brighter, sharper orange-yellow. His speaking voice was a lighter red, something in the family of burgundy but much lighter and a little pinker.

Scott and Mitch together, though. That was something you’ll never be used to, even after knowing them for so long and after being in the same acapella group for six years.

Scott and Mitch’s colors together were basically magic. Most people’s voice colors, when they sang together, didn’t blend. They hovered around each other, but no, not Scott and Mitch. They fit together perfectly. They melded and mixed and swirled until they were indistinguishable, Scott’s cool colors and Mitch’s warm colors and their shared reds. Their perfect octaves were particularly magical. Those were pure whites and silvers and purples that spiraled in and out of their original blues and reds.

You were glad they chose to go as Superfruit instead of solo artists, at least at first. Your own clear blues and dark purples could stand on their own. Avi’s dark, warm greens were calming and solid and reassuring. Kevin’s yellows and blacks and greys played well against the dark, dark reds of his cello. Scott and Mitch could probably do just fine individually, too, but their voices have been together so long you can’t help but wonder if they’ve actually grown to work intimately with the other’s. You wonder if they’ve evolved to have the other around them, that they’ll be okay alone but better together.

It’s hard to say.

 

 

-fin.


	27. Soft

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Soft  
> Warnings/TWs: none  
> Tags: Alternate Universe - Genderswap, Girl!Scomiche, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

There’s a knock on Scottie’s door, and she looks up from her homework for a second, confused as to who it might be. Her roommate has a key, and she hasn’t been spreading word about her room number like she knows some of the more social choristers have been. Her phone buzzes with a text.

_shelllllllll: im here open the door scoot_

Oh. Michelle. Well, Scottie really shouldn’t be surprised, just on the account that the only people who know her room number are Michelle and Kirstin, and Kirstin’s out shopping with the group that’d wanted to experience the night market in the city.

Scottie opens the door and Michelle steps in with a grin. She’s got a hoodie thrown over her tank top, and she’s still in the skinnies from the day. Her backpack is slung over her shoulder.

“Hey, Michelle, what’s up?” Scottie lets the door shut behind her. As Michelle lets her backpack slide off her shoulder onto Scottie’s bed, her face loses the smile and suddenly she looks so, so tired and sad and Scottie would do anything in the world to keep that look off her face.

“Was gonna come do homework with you, but honestly, Scottie, I need a hug, please,” she mumbles, already stepping forward with her arms open.

Scottie catches Michelle in her arms and she slumps against her chest.

“I miss home,” Michelle says, muffled against Scottie’s shirt. “I miss my sister and my mom and my dad and I just want to go home.”

“I know, love, I know,” Scottie whispers. “C’mere and cuddle.” She pushes their stuff out of the way and sits down, pulling Michelle down next to her. She sits up against the headboard, and Michelle shifts so that she’s curling against Scottie’s right side.

“Just three more nights, Michelle, three nights and four days, and then we go home,” Scottie reminds her, and Michelle starts tapping rhythms against Scottie’s stomach with her right fingers.

“Might as well be forever,” Michelle replies with a little sigh. “’m glad you’re here, though. Little piece of home.”

“I’m glad you’re here, too. No one I’d rather conquer the world with.”

Michelle huffs out what could be a laugh, and Scottie counts it as a win.

“Don’t let me stop you from studying, by the way. I’ll just stay here and you can read.”

“Okay. Wanna listen? I’m reading Keats.”

“Sure,” Michelle says with a little smile, settling her head on Scottie’s shoulder, who grabs her book and flips to the next poem she’s been assigned. It’s a long one, titled “Sleep and Poetry”.

Michelle’s eyes start drifting shut as Scottie reads the poem just loud enough to be heard over the gentle whooshing of the AC in the corner.

_…And sometimes like a gentle whispering_

_Of all the secrets of some wond’rous thing…_

Scottie keeps reading, book propped open in her left hand and the other wrapped around Michelle’s shoulder. As Michelle starts to doze, she ends up half-lying on Scottie, her head resting on her stomach, and Scottie shifts the book to her other hand. Her left hand ends up resting just in the tangle that is Michelle’s hair. It’s not a true conscious decision when her fingers start to move and tug gently at the knots in some semblance of rhythm as she keeps reading the poem, voice dropping to a murmur.

She doesn’t really know what she’s doing, or why she’s doing it, but Michelle seems to be breathing a little more evenly, a little deeper, and Scottie thinks she’s asleep until she murmurs something she can’t quite pick up.

“Hmm?” Scottie leans down closer to her, hand stilling in her hair.

“Keep doing that, it’s helping,” Michelle whispers just loud enough for her to hear. “It’s okay if you pull a little harder, too.” Her voice trails off and Scottie shifts a little so that she’s leant a little lower on the headboard. That makes it a little more comfortable for Michelle to rest, and she starts untangling her hair again, pulling a little bit harder at each knot every time she encounters one, and slowly Michelle’s hair smooths out. It’s just the littlest bit damp, which makes Scottie think that she showered before coming here. Usually, Michelle’s pretty picky about her hair, claiming it’s the “only nice part” of her, which Scottie has so many ways to protest. She’s got the prettiest eyes and the nicest legs and the kindest personality and the single most gorgeous smile of the entire choir. Besides that, though, the fact that she actually let it get so tangled and unruly speaks to the fact that she’s not doing very well being so far from home for such a long time.

_….and the shade_

_Keeping a silence round a sleeping maid…_

They’ll be okay, though, it’s just three more nights and four more days, then they’ll be home and they can sleep and cuddle and read as much poetry as they’d like.

Scottie glances down at Michelle. She’s asleep, the little furrow between her brows smoothed out in the peace of sleep. Scottie’s quietly happy she could help her best friend with this, as small as it is of an action, just reading and untangling her hair. It makes her feel a little more human, a little less detached and a little less alone in her own homesickness.

Michelle’s been there for her in the worst of times, and the best of times. For now, all they need is each other.

_…just as though the earnest frown_

_Of overthinking had that moment gone_

_From off her brow, and left her all alone…_

 

 

-fin.


	28. Bicycle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Bicycle  
> Warnings/TWs: passing mention of a death in a riddle  
> Tags: Fluff, Riddles

“Scotty, I have a riddle for you,” Mitch calls one night in the bus. The band is scattered throughout, and Mitch is sprawled in Scott’s bunk, not necessarily by accident. Scott’s somewhere up on the couches, but there’s a shuffling, a set of fooststeps, and then Scott appears in the bunk area.

“Yeah?”

Mitch pokes his head out. “C’mere and cuddle me and I’ll tell you the riddle.”

Scott sighs. Mitch knows he doesn’t love sharing the bunk space because it’s so small, but he also knows that Scott would never pass on a chance to cuddle.

“Okay, get out and I’ll get in, then you can be on top,” Scott says, and Mitch snorts, locking eyes with Scott, and Scott rolls his eyes.

“…which is an uncommon occurrence,” they say together as Mitch rolls out and lets Scott maneuver himself into the space.

Mitch wriggles in on his stomach on top of Scott, scooting down a little so he can rest his head on Scott’s chest.

“So, Scott, listen carefully.”

“Listening.”

It’s Mitch’s turn to roll his eyes before he continues. “You’re walking in the woods in the middle of the night and you come across a cabin. The door is open, so you walk in. Inside, you see a dead body, a smoking gun, a flipped table, and fifty three bicycles scattered on the floor. What happened?”

“Um,” Scott says, and Mitch laughs.

“Ask me questions to try and figure it out.”

“Was the body a guy, gal, or non-binary pal?”

“I mean, it doesn’t really matter but for the purposes of the story we’ll say he was a guy.”

“Did the guy die because he was shot?”

“Yeah.”

“How big was this fucking cabin to have fifty three bikes inside?”

Mitch shrugs. “Doesn’t really matter.”

“Were they like stacked?”

“Not really.”

“Are the bikes even significant, is the number even significant, why the fuck was I walking in the woods in the first place?”

“Yes, yes, great question.”

“Miiiiiitch,” Scott whines, “Tell me.”

“Keep asking, babe.”

Scott sighs. “Um. Were they normal bikes?”

“Hmmm. Not normal bikes, but normal bicycles, yes.”

“What.”

Mitch shrugs. “Keep asking, you’re on the right track.”

“Was it exactly fifty three? Who even _needs_ fifty three bicycles?”

“Exactly fifty three.”

“I don’t know, Mitchy, tell me? Please?” Scott puts on his best puppy eyes, and Mitch is half a centimeter from giving in before Esther walks by.

“Is this _that_ riddle, Mitch?” She asks.

“Yeah,” Mitch says, and Esther laughs.

“Scott, it’s not what you think it is,” Esther says before she disappears into the tiny bus bathroom.

Scott closes his eyes for a long moment and sighs. “Just tell me, Mitch, please.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“The bicycles are cards. Like. Bicycle brand playing cards,” Mitch says, and Scott’s eyes fly open.

“Oh my god. So the guy was cheating because of the extra card and some other guy got mad and shot him?”

“Yep.”

“Oh my god.”

 

-fin.


	29. Inspiration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Inspiration  
> Warnings/TWs: none  
> Tags: Meta, kinda, Fluff, Inspiraception, random side Malec, Alternate Universe

_~~What is inspiration? Inspiration is the feeling you get when you look at the only person you love and suddenly you want to create galaxies and moons and stars and suns and universes just for them.~~ _

_~~Fuck. Too existential.~~ _

_~~“Hey, do you wanna go get coffee after~~ _

_~~Too cliché and too big of an opening. FUCK.~~ _

“So is it really meta to be writing about having no inspiration for the prompt _inspiration_?” Mitch says out loud to no one in particular, but Scott’s head pops up from between stacks of books, where he’s been quietly studying.

“Is this for the challenge thing?” He asks, and Mitch nods.

“Ah. So your prompt for the day is inspiration?”

Mitch nods again. He’s been participating in a month-long challenge to write a short snippet of fanfiction every day according a list of prompts that’d started circulating on Twitter.

“I mean, I thought this one wouldn’t be as hard as it is, just on account that Magnus and Alec are literally the most soulmate goals you can get. They inspire each other on the daily, and here I am struggling to write inspiration.”

Scott shrugs. “True. I dunno, do you have any ideas at all?”

“No, that’s why I asked if it’s meta and ironic to write about having no inspiration for the prompt inspiration.”

Scott rolls his eyes, and Mitch sighs. “Look, just answer the question, Samantha.”

“Probably. I don’t know, though, Mitch, I don’t write much. If all the tweets I’ve been reading are any indication, though, a lot of people are struggling with it. Even Kirstin and Cari, and you know they’re like some of the biggest and most prolific writers in the fandom.”

Mitch sighs. He’s doing that too much today. It’s his only free day, he needs to wrap this challenge up so he can focus on school and just post as needed for the last three days.

“I might just have to go with no inspiration _as_ my inspiration,” Mitch says to the stack of books Scott’s disappeared behind again, and Scott hums in affirmation.

_~~Magnus thinks~~ _

_~~Inspiration. What a fucking terrible word.~~ _

_~~“So how am I supposed t~~ _

Suddenly, Mitch knows what he’s going to write, if he can do it right.

_“So is it really meta to be writing about having no inspiration for the prompt inspiration?” Magnus says out loud to no one in particular, but Alec’s head pops up from between stacks of books, where he’s been quietly studying…_

 

 

-fin.


	30. Patient

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Patient  
> Warnings/TWs: none  
> Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, kinda, Outsider POV, kinda, idk man, Mitch Uses She/Her Pronouns

“What are we doing, Scott?” Mitch whispers softly, finally bringing her gaze up to match Scott’s. The tone of her voice breaks Scott’s heart. It’s fragile, vulnerable, all things that Scott doesn’t associate with his bold, beautiful friend. “What is this? What are we?”

And the thing is, Scott wants to reassure her, wants to reach over and pull her into a hug, but he can’t, because he doesn’t know the answer. He doesn’t know what they’re doing. He doesn’t know what they are. Well. They’re good friends. Best friends. Somewhere more than best friends, because most best friends don’t give each other goodnight kisses and share a bed and go everywhere together, and most best friends don’t stay single by an unspoken contract for almost as long as they’ve known each other. Scott doesn’t know what _this_ is.

“I don’t know, Mitch, I really don’t. We’re friends. Best friends. Are we more than that? Have we ever been more than that? Will we ever be more than that?” Scott replies a beat too late, voice just as soft as Mitch’s.

One beat passes. Two. Three. Then it’s ten, then fifteen. Twenty. They hold the eye contact, and Scott doesn’t feel like he needs to look away. Thirty.

Mitch stands up, and Scott mirrors her. He’s the first one to step forward, folding her tight into his arms as she buries her face into the junction of his neck and shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Scott, I’m so sorry,” she says, muffled, and Scott squeezes her tighter.

“Nothing for you to be sorry for.”

There’s ten beats of silence.

“Are we okay?”

Scott nods. “Yeah. Yeah, we’re okay, lovely.”

“I love you,” Mitch murmurs, pulling back a little and brushing a kiss across his cheek as she does. Scott cups her face gently in his hands and presses a kiss to her forehead. They’re okay. Every cheek kiss and forehead kiss pattern is a semblance of normalcy, a reassurance that everything’s okay even when it’s not. Mitch always kisses his cheek. Scott always kisses her forehead. It’s their _okay_.

“I love you too,” Scott lets his lips brush Mitch’s forehead one more time before she tucks herself back into his arms.

Scott’s mum turns quietly from where she’s been semi-concealed in the shadow of the doorway, and sighs softly when she’s out of earshot. She’d heard the whole thing, and as much as she wants to step in and intervene and help them figure out what they are and what they’re doing, it’s not her place. She can only help if she’s asked to, and she hasn’t been. She sees the way Scott holds Mitch so, so tight, but she can also see the way Mitch digs her fingertips into Scott’s back like she never wants to let go. She can see the way Scott gets lost so easily in Mitch’s eyes, but she also sees the way Mitch’s gaze lingers too long when Scott’s not looking. She sees the way ‘lovely’ rolls so easily off Scott’s tongue, one syllable more than she knows Scott wishes was okay, but she also sees the way Mitch’s face softens at the pet name and the way she treats Scott with a particular gentleness that she doesn’t spare for anyone else.

It’s not as unrequited as Scott thinks it is. The problem is that Mitch’s scared, terrified, even, to let herself feel what’s obviously there. She doesn’t want to ruin what she and Scott have, so they keep denying their feelings for each other and it’s sad to watch, because she knows they’ll just end up hurting each other more if they don’t sit down and talk, but she has to be patient.

She has to be patient and let them figure it out themselves.

She tells Scott to be patient when he comes to her later with tears in his eyes, because _Mitchy only loves me as a friend but I love her so much more than that_.

_Scott, darling, I know you don’t want to be, but you have to be patient with her. She’s scared to say where she’s at, scared to trust her feelings._

Scott doesn’t want to be patient. He loves Mitch for everything she is, for her wit and her beauty and her bravery. He loves how brave she is, choosing to use feminine pronouns as a boy in Texas and not standing for any bullshit from people who disagree.

He doesn’t want to be patient, but he will because it’s Mitch, the love of his life, his best, oldest, and closest friend. He’d wait forever for her if he had to.

Someday they’ll have it all, but for now, they’ll stay undefined and unspokenly committed to each other for forever.

 

 

-fin.


	31. Chain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Chain  
> Warnings/TWs: maaaaybe anxiety, just be careful pls <3  
> Tags: Anxiety, Hurt/Comfort
> 
> Note: THIS IS FOR SOPHIE, WHO CAME UP WITH AND WROTE THIS PROMPT HERSELF [HERE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11937138) love u babe

There’s so many people and so much noise and so little space and too little time and Mitch isn’t doing well, at all. He’s doing his best, puts on his best neutral face, because there’s no way he has enough energy to expend on even the smallest happy face. He’s trying, he really is. He needs to get away, needs space before he panics, needs something or someone to hold onto until he can pull himself together but he can’t go anywhere, they’re in the middle of a meet-and-greet and after they’ll have a few to regroup but he can’t last that long, needs to get away now, now now nownownow-

They’re moving onto pictures, which is a little better than the full mingle time just because he has to interact with less people at a time, it’s a little quieter and he can focus a little better, feels the way each foot hits the group as he shuffles around to make room for fan after fan, most of them standing between him and Scott, which shouldn’t throw his balance off as much as it does, but it does, because Scott’s usually the one to press him back together when he’s scattered like this, when he can’t pull himself together on his own, when everything’s too much all at once and every single voice is too loud and every hug is too tight, no matter how gentle.

It’s too much, even the little amount of contact he’s having with each fan is just not sitting well with him at all, and he’s going to break, he can feel it, he knows he’s about to snap and the whole façade will come crumbling down and he’s going to have to leave, _god, no, please, not now, not when everyone needs me here, no, please_ -

And then there’s a hand. Scott’s. Mitch knows it by touch. It’s resting on his shoulder over the fan between them, and Mitch focuses every ounce of energy into grounding himself into Scott’s hand, into the warm, solid pressure against his shoulder. After that fan, Scott drops his hand and Mitch catches his eye.

 _You okay?_ Scott mouths, and Mitch shakes his head the slightest bit. He really isn’t, and he hopes Scott can see it.

Another fan approaches, their jittery, giggly energy feeding Mitch’s anxiety a little more. Scott’s hand comes back up to cup the back of his neck gently, thumb rubbing up and down, pressing down into the bone. It helps Mitch a little more than the hand on his shoulder did, but he’s still jittery, still feels like he’s on the edge and about to snap, still needs more to keep him from flying off.

The next one who comes up, Mitch remembers as being particularly enthusiastic and loud and bright and just overall a lot, and while those are fantastic things, Mitch doesn’t think he’ll be able to hand them right now.

They wedge themselves between Scott and Mitch, and Mitch tenses up and he’s trying not to jerk away, _just a minute, it’ll just be a minute before you can go back to the greenroom and recollect yourself, c’mon, Mitchell, get it together god fuck fuck fuck fuck i can’t i can’t can’t can’t can’tcant’t-_

Scott’s hand is still on his neck but it’s not enough, he can barely feel it over the prickling under his skin, can barely feel the warmth with how fucking cold then hot then cold then hot then cold then hot oh _god_ fuck, it’s too much and then Scott’s hand moves and Mitch feels him slip his fingers under the chain of the necklace he’s wearing.

Mitch holds back a shiver as Scott’s fingers loop once, twice, thrice in the chain, pulling it taut against Mitch’s neck. _That_ grounds Mitch like nothing else. He leans into it a little, making it press harder into his skin, and  he thinks the familiar pressure at his throat should keep him there enough for the last few pictures.

 _Thank god for Scott’s quick thinking,_ Mitch wants to say, but he can’t, so he glances over as Scott as the next fan comes up and he hopes Scott can read his _thank you, I love you_ without him having to move anything besides his eyes.

The tiny twitch of the corner of Scott’s mouth and the softening of his eyes says _of course, Mitchy. Always. I love you too._

 

-fin.


	32. THANK YOU

THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR STICKING WITH ME OH MY GOD!!! This is the first daily challenge I've ever done and completed, and I'm super proud of myself for that!!!! Thank you for all the support and love on every single one of these, and I love you all so so so much!! Hope I see some of y'all on my other fic :D lots planned for the future if I can get my shit together :P

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Second](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12047385) by [thedarknesswithin (babylxxrry)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/babylxxrry/pseuds/thedarknesswithin)
  * [Messy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13629753) by [deanssammy (babylxxrry)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/babylxxrry/pseuds/deanssammy)




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